Burn Bright
by BreadBoy
Summary: *ALLEGIANT SPOILERS* Allegiant Alternate Ending: In a twisted turn of events, Tris is brought back to life, but it's not exactly a happily ever after. Secrets. Lies. Assaults. Escapes. Distrust. And worst of all; fear.
1. 1: TRIS

_(continued from _Allegiant_'s Chapter Fifty)_

The fire, the fire. It rages within, a campfire and then an inferno, and my body is its fuel. I feel it racing through me, eating away at the weight. There is nothing that can kill me now; I am powerful and invincible and eternal. 

I feel the serum clinging to my skin like oil, but the darkness recedes. I slap a heavy hand over the floor and push myself up. 

Bent at the waist, I shove my shoulder into the double doors, and they squeak across the floor as their seal breaks. I breathe clean air and stand up straighter. I am there, I am there. 

But I am not alone. 

"Don't move," David says, raising his gun. "Hello, Tris." 

I don't even look. He couldn't shoot me. He _couldn't._

And then the bullet is there, in my side, but I do not feel. His lips start to form another word when I shoot him in the shoulder, knocking him down. He's not dead yet. I can't aim well in my condition. I stumble closer to his bleeding body, shut my eyes, and fire again. Nothing. No bullets. I start to panic, ideas racing through my mind, but I find my small knife in my back pocket. Do I really want to kill him like this? He is not someone I hate passionately like Eric. _But Eric fought back. Eric was brutal and physical. _But David is smart, dangerously smart, and is probably going to be the next Jeanine. Still, does David deserve this? 

_Yes_. My thoughts become cloudy and I can't think straight any more. I stab him where his heart would be and I fall to my knees, out of strength. David's death will be long and agonizing, and I will have to hear his cries while I attempt to release the memory serum. "Tris," David pants. "Don't." Then his blood flows out of his mouth, bubbling up like red foam. His eyes are still there though, still alive and burning, like the inferno burning inside my own body. But this is different. I know this is one fight David doesn't have the strength to win. More red foam spurts out from David's mouth. 

I turn away and make a last effort to stand, then fall on top of the device. I can remember the pass code to release the memory serum and change everything forever. Stop the experiments. Stop the genetic discrimination. Stop the _factions._ Do I want to do it? I looked down, back at my bullet wound. I am bleeding heavily, and I hardly acknowledged it. I feel like my body is being drained of blood. The wound is bad, deep in the side of my body. I could not feel it until now, as it sets my remaining blood on fire and starts eating away at my existence piece by piece.

I struggle to find the button for the last number of the code because of the black space growing larger in front of my eyes. The device unlocks but I can not hear. I am still in the Weapons Lab. I still exist in this world, though I am not very sure.

White light surrounds me. The pain is shredding at everything now, my legs, my head, my being. I feel like nothing. I feel like an empty body floating dead in the water. White light. Everywhere.

_When am I done? _I ask myself. _My mother. _She is approaching me in a dreamlike manner. _Am I done? _

She gives me a kind of sweet, sad smile. This must be it. I never got to say goodbye, I never got a last hug from Christina, a last laugh from Uriah, a last _touch _from Tobias. It was over. But I can't think about the past anymore. I feel a wave of peace wash over me, my pain gone and my body restored. _I'm done. Right? It's all over. _My mother looks at me with the same body, the same hair, and the same face I last remember her having. A tear rolls down her cheek. That isn't right. I feel so _peaceful_; it seems impossible to see tears when I feel so complete.

Then, before I can register my surroundings, the wave is gone. The white light is gone. My reality, struggles, and pain come thundering back to my brain, and now there is only darkness.

* * *

**There's a short first chapter! I haven't been on Fanfiction for like a year! Now that I finished the Divergent series, I'm glad to be back. My username connects to Hunger Games, but personally I like Divergent more. I hope you guys will enjoy this fresh, new story.**

**Next chapter: Tobias.**


	2. 2: TOBIAS

**TOBIAS**

_(continued from Allegiant's Chapter Fifty-One)_

"Where is everyone?" Amar says.

We walk through the abandoned security checkpoint without stopping. On the other side, I see Cara. The side of her face is badly bruised, and there's a bandage on her head, but that's not what concerns me. What concerns me is the troubled look on her face.

"What is it?" I say.

Cara shakes her head.

"Where's Tris?" I say.

"I'm sorry, Tobias."

"Sorry about what?" Christina says roughly. "Tell us what happened!"

"Tris went into the Weapons Lab instead of Caleb," Cara says. "She survived the death serum, and set off the memory serum, but she . . . she was shot. And she didn't survive. I'm so sorry."

Most of the time I can tell when people are lying, and this must be a lie, because Tris is still alive, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed and her small body full of power and strength, standing in a shaft of light in the atrium. Tris is still alive, she wouldn't leave me here alone, she wouldn't go to the Weapons Lab instead of Caleb.

"No," Christina says, shaking her head. "No way. There has to be some mistake."

Cara's eyes well up with tears. It's then I realize: Of course Tris would go into the Weapons Lab instead of Caleb.

Of course she would.

Christina yells something, but to me her voice sounds muffled, like I have submerged my head underwater. The details of Cara's face have also become difficult to see, the world smearing together into dull colors.

All I can do is stand still - I feel like if I just stand still, I can stop it from being true, I can pretend that everything is all right. Christina hunches over, unable to support her own grief, and Cara embraces her, and all I'm doing is standing still.

* * *

When her body first hit the net, all I registered was a gray blue. I pulled her across it and her hand was small, but warm, and then she stood before me, short and thin and plain in all ways unremarkable-except that she had jumped first. The Stiff had jumped first.

Even I didn't jump first.

Her eyes were so stern, so insistent.

_Beautiful._

* * *

But that wasn't the first time I ever saw her. I saw her in the hallways at school, at my mother's false funeral, and walking the sidewalks in Abnegation sector. I saw her, but I didn't see her; no one saw her the way she truly was until she jumped.

I suppose a fire that burns that bright is not meant to last.

* * *

**This chapter is identical to the book, I know. I did this so this alternate ending of mine could really be realistic.**

**Chapter 3 is already written, so I'll post that write away.**

**Follow, Favorite, and Comment! I love all my readers :)**


	3. 3: TOBIAS

I had just left my apartment after days and says of grieving. I realized that it's movement, not stillness, that helps to keep the grief at bay. I was still crippled by loneliness, surprising myself every time I think about how I have lost everything. Now with my discovery, I was going to try and take a walk outside the building, undisturbed. I was not ready for interaction. I closed the door behind me.

"Tobias?"

I shudder a little. It's Caleb. I turn away from the voice, searching for an escape route.

"Wait. Please," he says.

I don't want to look at him, to measure how much, or how little, he grieves for her. And I don't want to think about how she died for such a miserable coward, about how he wasn't worth her life.

Still, I do look at him, wondering if I can see some of her in his face, still hungry for her even now that I know she's gone.

His hair is unwashed and unkempt, his green eyes bloodshot, his mouth twitching into a frown.

He does not look like her.

"I don't mean to bother you," he says. "But I have something to tell you. Something..._she _told me to tell you, before..."

"Just get on with it," I say, before he tried to finish the sentence.

"She told me that if she didn't survive, I should tell you..." Caleb chokes, then pulls himself up straight, fighting off tears. "That she didn't want to leave you."

I should feel something, hearing her last words to me, shouldn't I? I feel nothing. I feel farther away than ever.

"Yeah?" I say harshly. "Then why did she? Why didn't she let you die?"

"You think I'm not asking myself that question?" Caleb says. "She loved me. Enough to hold me at gunpoint so she could die for me. I have no idea why, but that's just the way it is."

He walks away without letting me respond, and it's probably better that way, because I can't think of anything to say that is equal to my anger. I blink away tears and sit down on the ground, right in the middle of the lobby.

I know why she wanted to tell me that she didn't want to leave me. She wanted me to know that this was not another Erudite headquarters, not a lie told to make me sleep while she went to die, not an act of unnecessary self-sacrifice. I grind the heels of my hands into my eyes like I can push my tears back into my skull. _No crying_, I chastise myself. If I let a little of the emotion out, all of it will come out, and it will never end. I learned this from my sessions locked into my bedroom.

"There you are," Christina says, jogging toward me. Her face is red and swollen. People may categorize us similarly, for we both wept over the same person, but it was so different.

"They called me."

"What?" I croak, my throat hoarse from screaming and sobbing. This is still some of the first physical interaction I've experienced in a while.

"They wanted to call you, but they couldn't get to you, so they called me. About _her_." Christina says.

"I have...no idea what you're talking about."

"You won't even understand if I try to tell you. I don't know if you'll like it or not. Go over to the Medical Wing. They'll tell you."

Ideas race through my mind. _About her_, Christina said. _I don't know if you'll like it or not._ I get up from the floor and look right past Christina, and start walking toward the Medical Wing.

* * *

I walk into the main office. "Mr. Eaton?" I turn around to face a white-haired doctor with a clipboard. I nod slowly. "Yes, take a seat, here. Right here." I sit down on the green chair as the doctor sits on the opposite side of the desk. On the desk is a sign that reads _Dr. Collins_.

"Well, Tobias. First. Uriah. They unplugged him when you were unable to be located. They erased his family and sent them back to Chicago."

Dr. Collins says the words so easily, so casually, without meaning.

"Next, David," Dr. Collins says, leaning back in his chair. I cringe at the name. _David._

"Shot in the shoulder, stabbed in the neck, hit with the memory serum, he's got the whole package. But he's alive, sad news for you, eh? Closest ties with the person who did the damage is responsible for his fate. Tris did the damage, that makes you responsible. Technically, killing someone off like this here is considered unethical, but since there really is no chance of him lasting until tomorrow, we are allowing to stop his suffering. Pull the plug, Eaton?"

I look into his eyes. "Let him suffer."

Dr. Collins squints at me for a moment, and I stare back. Then he leans back in the chair again and shrugs.

"Alright, Tobias. Now... Tris. Dearest friend." My anger starts to boil in the pit of my stomach. How could this man, who didn't even know her, just speak about her like this?

"Tobias. It's _complicated._ Nowadays, anything is possible. We check the bodies before they're burned." I start to hold my breath. I didn't like wherever he could possibly be going with this. "Tobias, she's alive."


	4. 4: TOBIAS

Dr. Collins stands up and starts pacing back and forth, keeping his distance.

"She's in something called something Modern Dream State. It's very rare. The symptoms are the same symptoms, of, well, death. Pale, cold, minimal breathing. It's also hard to bring MDS patients back to health. Tris can definitely survive while unconscious, but we'll never know when her consciousness kicks in. When she wakes up though, she will have to be watched carefully for about a month and Tris would be back to normal."

I can't breathe.

For a moment I forgot how. How can she be alive? I thought her death was a joke, now I think her aliveness is a joke. She can't be alive. I don't know how to take this. I should be happy, overjoyed, but why am I not? Was I grieving too long so that I forgot about her? Did I only remember parts of her?

What if I had forgotten how to love?

"That can't be true," I say. I can't figure out what I'm feeling through the mass tangle of emotions in my head.

"Do you want to see her?" Dr. Collins says.

I don't. I don't want to see her alive, but looking dead. It makes me feel dead. But I need to see her. She is alive. Tris is alive. I am alive. But I am so dead. I think about almost erasing myself in Abnegation. Should I have done it? Nothing makes me feel more terrible than I do now. I am upset that my love is alive, and I don't know why, and I'm so confused that I want to break down and cry. I am weak. So weak, without her.

"I don't know," I say finally.

"Think about it, Tobias. You have time. She has enough strength to push against it, but we'll have to see if she can push through it. MDS puts patients into a very realistic hallucination. They think they are alive, so it's hard for them to figure out that it's not real."

"Like a simulation. She's Divergent. She can do it."

"Divergent?"

I forgot that almost everyone's memory had been erased.

"Did I say that? I meant something else, sorry. I'm sure she can figure it out, though. She really can."

"We'll see. Certain things they do not hallucinate about, though. These worlds they think they exist in are much like the real world. You are probably in it, and her friend Christina is probably in it. Things like fantasies and angels and heavenly things don't really occur in them," Dr. Collins says.

"Thank you," I say, though I do not thank him at all. I wish everything he said was a lie. But inside I knew it was true, no matter how much I tried to lie to myself. I walk out of his office, into my bedroom again, sit on my cot, hunched over, hands crossed, staring at the floor, just like I did all those days after she died. I should feel something. I only feel confusion slapping me in the face again and again, scolding me for being so stupid.

I lay on my cot, staring at the ceiling now. The only change from now and then is that now, no tears wet my face and shirt, and no ugly sounds escape from my chest. Now I miss her, finally, and I feel better for missing her, because it's what I should do. I want her next to me, I want her to be there and I want her to tell me that she loves me. Then I start to cry again, like a pathetic, broken creature. The words and image of her death had broken me into a heaving wreck. I am so weak inside without her. I understand my confusion. I am so used to her being dead that I couldn't adjust to the idea of her still being alive. Then I fall asleep, wanting her hand over mine.

* * *

I walk into the bathroom, shivering and breathing unevenly. I wash my face and look at myself in the mirror. My swollen face is covered in uneven stubble and my hair is everywhere. I look at my hair painfully. I cut it when I took a secret trip to Abnegation, or so I thought. Christina followed me, made me not erase myself. I'm glad she did not let me erase myself, or else I wouldn't ever been able to see Tris again, and when she woke up, she would hurt at the sight of me not knowing her. It would be like I was under a simulation she could not break me out of, and I would have never forgiven myself for doing that to her. Thank you, Christina.

I hadn't washed properly in a few days. I decide to take a shower and shave. I think I'm crying, but I can't tell the stream of water from my tears. I step out and finally put new clothes on, and look in the mirror again. I look cleaner, but not better. My face is twisted with an unusual form of pain. I start to feel frustrated with myself, I'm not sure why, but I punch my reflection in the mirror as hard as I can, and it cracks and shatters in all different directions. My knuckles are scratched and bleeding, but I don't rinse them. This time I punch the wall. I feel somewhat better.

I start to punch everything in the room, until my muscles ache too much and arms are too tired to hit anything. I feel satisfied. I walk into the bathroom again, and look at the distorted image of myself in the cracked mirror. Broken. I see myself for what I really am. Broken, pieces of me scattered everywhere, pieces of me that I can't get back. All I want is for things to be back to normal again. Tris and I together, talking, facing the everyday challenges. I sighed, my boots crunching on the broken pieces on the floor, and walked toward the Medical Wing.

* * *

She is there.

She lays there, on the hospital bed, so dead, so alive. I don't squeeze her hand. I don't touch her. I don't stand close to her. I stand in the doorway, watching, waiting for her to wake up, walk over, give me a kiss, tell me she loves me. She doesn't. How can she be alive? So pale. So small.

"We took the bullet out. She lost a lot of blood. Even if she could wake up, she might not because of lost strength," Dr. Collins says behind me. "Well, I'll leave you two alone now." I hear Dr. Collins walk away. _You two_. _Not just you. You two._

I walk closer. Close enough to see her face. Then the barrier I tried to build up inside of me breaks, and I start to cry again. Her face is so still, so unaware. I collapse into the chair by the bed and cover my face with my hands so she can't see. Can she hear me? I think I will just stay in that chair until she wakes up. I remember how Tris pulled me out of that simulation. Maybe I can do the same. I take a deep breath and touch her hand. Then I squeeze it.

"Tris," I say, trying to remember what Tris had said to me that day I almost shot her. "Tris, you're in a simulation. Tris, I know you're in there," I whisper. My heart throbs. I stand up, leaning over her. "Tris, please." I am begging. I am pathetic. Tears make my face hot.

"Please. See me." I see her face change the slightest bit, her eyebrows twitch, the corners of her lips turn downward. She twitches for a long moment. For about ten minutes, she sort of jerks around. "Please see me, Tris, please!" Her scowl turns deeper. I'm not sure if I like this, but I feel it. She's getting out. She's fighting it. I let go of her hand. I don't want her to struggle. She's acting like a tortured animal. I move my hand to her neck, trying to calm her. "Tris, it's me," I say.

"It's not a simulation. It's not a landscape. You have to get out," I say, and wait.


	5. 5: TRIS

TRIS

Christina tells me we're going to the atrium, I don't know why. These days, I always have no idea what's going on, except that Christina is there. She guides me out of her room and into the hallway when Tobias appears. The world has seemed muted since I woke up from the incident in the Weapons Lab. I haven't seen Tobias in a while, since I woke up in the hospital after David's gunshot. I wonder why he didn't come to see me. Tobias walks over to me, and the world suddenly melts into something else. This hasn't happened before. Did I put myself into my fear landscape and forget? Maybe Tobias decided to take me in with him again, but I forgot. I wasn't sure, but I was used to the simulations now.

I'm inside the Dauntless control room. Sitting in the chair is a Dauntless soldier. This seems all too familiar. The soldier must be Tobias, who will probably try to kill me. I know if this is a fear landscape, it isn't Tobias's, it's mine. But maybe it is his. Maybe he hated it as much as I did. But wait; I look down, and I can't see my shoes. Then I'm not looking at the Dauntless soldier, I'm looking the computers.

_I _am the Dauntless soldier.

I'm the one controlling the simulation. I'm the one _under _a simulation. I'm in Tobias's position, and I suddenly wonder if Tobias will be in here, and he will fight me and offer a gun to me so I can shoot him. Then a wall goes up in my mind before I can think another second, and I can't think anymore. More walls go up, and I just click buttons and watch the screen. _Keep it under control_, I think, and I watch for any bugs in the simulation code. "Tris," a man says behind me. _Nobody is allowed in here. Intruder._

My head turns, and my eyes shift to him. I stand. I'm utterly confused, but my hands seem to raise my gun for me. _Intruder_, I think. _Kill him. _

"Drop your weapon," I say. "Tris," the man says, "you're in a simulation." "Drop your weapon," I repeat. _Kill him._ "Or I'll fire." I will shoot him if I have to. He sets his gun down at his feet. The tall, muscular man then runs at me, grabbing my wrist. I pinch the trigger but he ducks his head just in time. The bullet hits the wall behind him. The man kicks me in the ribs and twists my wrist to the side as hard as he can. I can't register any pain, but I drop the gun. Suddenly I know I can't beat this man in a fight. He is strong. Maybe I shouldn't try to kill him, just protect the simulation. But a pain rings in my head and I forget what I was thinking, and continue to attempt to hurt him. He dives for the gun, but before he can touch it, I grab him and wrench him to the side. I am stronger now. He barely stumbles a little backwards. He stare into my eyes for an instant before I punch him in the jaw. His head jerks to the side and he cringes away from me, flinging his hands up to protect his face. _Kill him._

He kicks the gun back with his heel so I can't grab it and he kicks me in the stomach. I catch his foot and pull him down so he falls on his shoulder. He stares up at me. _Kill him_ is all I can think.

He rolls onto his knees, stretching his arm out for the gun. I grab him by his shirt and yank him to the side_. _It is still hard to do though, because of his size. I reach back and grab his wrist, but he's too strong and my forehead smacks into the wall. _He is stronger. Kill him fast. _I grab his arm and pin him down. I don't feel his strength against me. He is not even struggling. I register pain in his face, not physical, but sadness. He is not enjoying hurting me. "Tris," he says. Why does he say that? I am confused, and he twists and kicks me in the leg.

He grabs me by the shoulders, too hard, his fingers digging into where a bullet was. I can't register the pain, but I stop for a moment as he dives at the gun and flips over onto his back and point the gun at me. "Tris," he says. "I know you're in there somewhere."

He stands. "Tris, please." The man starts to cry. He is pathetic. Something in my mind turns off. I'm confused. Where am I? "Please. See me." _Kill him. _I walk towards him faster.

"Please see me, Tris, please!" I scowl. This man can't kill me. He cares for me; I see it in his eyes. But why? I try to place this man in my memory. No. I don't know him. The strange pain rings in my head again, telling me to stop thinking for myself and . . . _Kill him._

He turns the gun in his hands and presses it into my palm. I stare up at this man in shock. I stare into his face. I don't want to do it. He's struggling. But he wants it, I think. He's asking for it.

Pain pinches my brain, so I push the barrel into his forehead. He stops crying. He reaches out and rests his hand on my neck. I let him do what he wants. He's going to die. The bullet clicks into the chamber.

He is ready.

* * *

I look into his eyes. They are too familiar. Ferocious, dark, eyes. I don't move. I don't shoot. The pinch in my head makes me cringe this time, scolding me to shoot, but I try my best to ignore it. It's him.

"Tris," he says. "It's me."

I can't move. His arms pull me into his chest as the gun hits the floor.

_Tobias._ I cry.

Tobias. This is no fear landscape. Not at all. This is something else. I'm so confused. I almost killed him. I wrap my arms around him. I haven't seen him in such a long time.

"It's not a simulation. It's not a landscape. You have to get out," Tobias mumbles into my hair. It sounds different, though. It sounds deep, desperate, and clearer than any voice I've heard since I woke up from my bullet wound. It's not a simulation? What is it?

"Are you coming with me?" I say.

Tobias replies, "I'm already there."


	6. 6: TRIS

TRIS

I jolt up, breathing heavily, my chest heaving, dizzy, weak, a little lightheaded. I look down. Hospital bed? I look around. Hospital room . . . and Tobias. He is standing up. He looks dead and down and wrong. He isn't the Tobias I know. Has he been crying? His face is slick with sweat, but I don't care. He walks closer to me and stares at me, his large hands ghosting over my forehead, my eyebrows, my cheeks, my lips. It's like he's making sure I'm real, alive, present. Something like a sob and a sigh and a moan escapes him, and he kisses me. I feel better, he feels better, that's all I need. But his eyes are bright with tears. I never thought I would see Tobias cry. It makes me hurt. I pull myself to his chest and he sits on the bed next to me, hunched over. All the throbbing in my head comes back, and the ache in my shoulder, and I feel like my body weight doubles. But Tobias leans against me this time, and I support him. "Hey, hey, it's okay," I tell him, combing my fingers through his hair. His chest starts to heave and I feel like crying, because he's hurting so much. "Tobias, stop," I tell him, my voice cracking, my eyes welling up with tears. "Tobias."

"You . . .Tris, it's true . . ." Tobias gasps. I hold his head against my shoulder and try to comfort him. It's impossible. I would have never thought that I would feel the need to comfort him. "You _died_."

"What?" I say.

"It's . . . a lot to say." Tobias mumbles. I can barely support his weight leaning on me, especially because I feel like I've shrunken in size since the Weapons Lab. "Okay, okay . . ." I say. "We can talk later, okay?" Tobias nods.

We sit like that together for a while, Tobias's sobs reducing gradually and me cooing to him, trying to understand what he meant. _You died._ What? And what was that whole simulation? It couldn't have been a simulation. Tobias told me so inside of it. Plus it was so _real_. I would have been able to tell that it was fake, and get out faster. I was in there for weeks, it felt like. I remember Christina annoying me and Uriah dying and everything.

"Do you want to get out? You can stay in my bedroom. They gave us separate rooms now," Tobias says quietly. I'm not sure. Of course I want to, but I am physically weak, and Tobias being, well, mentally weak, I don't know if he could hold me. But I want to feel him strong again, like the Tobias I know. I nod to him, looking downward, because he's staring so intently at me, taking everything in. I feel like I don't know him anymore. He leans forward and stood up. "Actually, we should make sure you're good to go. Collins doesn't know you're . . . awake." He starts to leave, but turns around, comes back, and plants a kiss on the top of my head as I stare down at the hospital bed sheets again. "Don't go anywhere, Tris," Tobias whispers. He's really concerned about everything around him. I look at him with stern eyes, and watch him finally go in his black t-shirt and pants.

* * *

**Short chapter so I'm posting Chapter 7 along with it!**


	7. 7: TOBIAS

**Last chapter was short, so I'm posting this right now. (Mainly because I don't like switching POV's in the middle of a chapter.)**

* * *

TOBIAS

"Collins," I say, trying to make this fast. I didn't want Tris being left alone for too long.

"Yes, Tobias. You need anything?" Dr. Collins puts down the pen he was using.

"She woke up. Tris. She woke up."

Dr. Collins looks surprised, raising his eyebrows. It's probably the most emotion I've seen him express. "We'll have to check her and test her then. She's very lucky."

I nodded. "I can't take her home today?"

"As soon as we make sure everything's alright. I'll send some nurses in." Dr. Collins goes back to writing. He genuinely doesn't care. I wonder what he could have been like before he was erased. Was he actually a sincere, kind man? I felt a pang of guilt strike me, but erasing all of these people is what Tris died for. At least he doesn't know anything about genetic discrimination.

I go back to Tris's room, where she sits on the bed, under the covers like I left her. Something is different. She acts different around me, and I don't like it. I don't know _why_, and I hate that. Instead of sitting next to her on the bed, I collapse onto the chair. I feel a little embarrassed from crying by her, but it was just too much shock and happiness and everything in between. "They need to check you. Then you can leave," I tell her, and she nods, focusing on her fingers. "Do you want me to explain?" I ask her, trying to break this silence. I want things to be normal, and I'm afraid they'll never be normal again.

"Okay," she says.

"Do you remember when you went into . . . into the Weapons Lab instead of Caleb?" Tris freezes. She starts to take deep breaths, closes her eyes, opens them, looks at me.

"I get it. I think I get it. I got shot, and then I thought I . . . woke up though? I was in the hospital and Uriah was already dead. Christina came and you never visited. I saw people, but they were quiet. Christina was the only one who talked, I think. Then, I thought I went into your fear landscape and I . . . I was in the simulation instead of you. Remember when you were controlling the Dauntless soldiers destroying Abnegation? I was controlling it instead of you, and then you tried to stop me. You gave your gun to me," Tris says, her voice getting quieter. "You said the same things I said and we had the same fight. Then I woke up. Again."

"The first time you woke up, that was something called a hallucination. It seemed real, but it wasn't. Christina came to visit you in real life, when you were unconscious. That's why you heard her voice, I think."

"Why didn't you come to see me?" Tris says. I hesitate.

"I was broken without you," the tears come again, "I stayed in my room and just died everyday. I couldn't go out or anything. They originally tried to contact me, but couldn't find me. We thought you were _dead_, Tris. You were dead to me. I saw you, dead, on the table, and you don't know how much that hurt." I feel ashamed as my tears fall to the tile floor. I don't want to be like this in front of Tris, because I need to be strong and normal and nurse her back to health. "Caleb told me you didn't want to leave me. I thought you did. If you didn't want to, why did you? I don't know."

"I would never leave you. I somehow survived the death serum," Tris says.

"How?" I shook my head.

"I wanted-I _needed_ to survive. For you, and Caleb, and everyone who died for me. I'm not kidding. I just . . . I couldn't leave you," Tris says, giving me a sad smile. A twist of confusion hits me when she says she died for Caleb, after all he had done.

"Thank you," I eventually say, reminding myself that none of that matters, all that matters is that she is here, I'm here, and things can only get better.

The nurse comes, and pokes and prods Tris. She even takes her temperature and weight. Then she turns to both of us.

"You lost a lot of blood. You're very weak, so take it easy for the next couple of weeks. You might feel cold, or have minor trouble breathing. It's normal. If you don't start to warm up in a week, come visit. And if you have a lot of trouble breathing, visit for that as well. A wheelchair won't be good on your body, so it's best that you don't really move around a lot. Otherwise, you can go home. By the way, the beds for the new bedrooms should be coming in tomorrow. Hope you feel better," the nurses smiles, and walks out of the room. Tris smiles back at her, and I smile at Tris. I feel stronger. I feel the way I was before again. I have Tris. We have each other. She makes me strong. I pick her up like a bride, and she chuckles against my chest. My muscles ache from inactivity but push through it. "Ready?" Tris nods eagerly, smiling, and I carry her all the way to my room. I try to hold her in one arm as I open the door to my room. I struggle with it for a while as Tris thinks I can't hear her laughing. I finally get it open, but immediately freeze. Pieces of the mirror are strewn out on the floor and there are holes in the walls. The things on my dresser are lying on the floor and the handle of one of my dresser drawers is coming off.

"_Tobias_," Tris breathes. She stops, and looks around. I want to drop her on the floor, I want her to tell her to leave, I want to tell her that she shouldn't be afraid. Should she be afraid? Am I really as dangerous as it appears in this moment? But we are all broken inside, just some more than others. I hope Tris can understand. "Was it...because of me?" I don't answer her.

"Oh, Tobias." I can tell she hates not being able to walk. She just pulls closer to me, looks up and holds my face. I stare down back at her, in this broken place, these broken people.

I hold her wrist gently, trying not to hurt her, and pull it away from my jaw. "There's one cot. You take it. I . . . I've got my spot on the floor," I say, remembering back when I first showed my tattoos to Tris, when I slept on the floor and gave her the bed. She remembers it too, I can see the gears turning in her head. I set her down on the cot and kick away shards of mirror to clear a place to lay down. "You need anything?" I ask Tris. I notice she is still pale, and seems like she's shrunken. Her muscles are gone. "No," Tris says. I hold her white hand, which feels icy. "You're cold," I say, alarmed. "Nurse said it was normal, remember?" I remember, and let go. I study the details of her face.

Most of the time I can tell when people are lying, and her death was a lie, because Tris is still alive, her eyes dull and her cheeks pale and her small body barely holding itself together, lying helplessly on a cot. That's not what matters though. Tris is still alive and she wouldn't leave me here alone. She didn't leave me here alone.

"Good night," Tris says. "Good night," I repeat, and lay down on the ground. I hear her breathing become even as she falls asleep.

I stare up at the ceiling, listening to Tris's breathing, constantly reminding me that she's there, and she's alive.

Since I was young, I have always known this: Life damages us, every one. We can't escape that damage. But now, I am also learning this:

We can be mended. We mend each other.


	8. 8: TRIS

TRIS

I wake up and don't move. I listen to hear if Tobias is awake. I hear slight brushing sounds, and I assume that he's trying to clean up the effects of his rage without waking me up. It makes me sad. How have I never realized before that for all the strong, kind parts of him, there are also hurting, broken parts?

I peek my eyes out of the covers and see him holding something in his hands. It was a lump of shattered blue glass. He looked at it carefully. It probably meant something to him. He put the shards into a cloth pouch and hid it in the dresser drawer. I remember telling him that we had to trust each other, stop lying and keeping secrets. I closed my eyes. I didn't want to see anything else I wasn't supposed to. Then I heard him sit on the metal bench in the corner, and I pretended to wake up. I yawned and moved the covers.

"Tris. Hi."

"Can I sit next to you?" I say, and Tobias comes over to pick me up and place me on the steel bench next to him. I rest my head against his shoulder, and he wraps his heavy arm around my waist. "Remember when I said we have to trust each other? That we shouldn't lie? Well, I think we're both holding secrets. Right?" I say. Tobias's arm tightens around me. He doesn't answer. "You don't have to tell me anything now, you know, but just . . . We should tell each other at some point."

"That sounds good. Do you know what else sounds good? Breakfast." Before I can laugh, his arm raises to my back and the other slips under my legs and we're out the door.

I love the feeling of Tobias's powerful arms around me, reminding me that he is strong, but I hate it too because they remind me that I am weak. I guess we're both weak, in different ways. I rest my head against his arm and look down the hall. I see Caleb. He squints, as if he can't believe it, while I hold my breath. I don't want to talk to him. Honestly, I don't want to talk to anyone right now except for Tobias, and I rethink what will happen if I go into the Bureau's cafeteria. I will have to face Christina and Caleb and others. I will have to answer questions and discuss topics.

"Tobias," I say quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. I look up, and he's staring right at Caleb, like I don't exist. I could see the anger and hatred dripping from his eyes, and it scares me. I don't want to know that he can hate someone that much, and hurt them as much as he wants to. "Tobias," I repeat. "Let's just go back-" But he's already turning around, carrying me back to our room, just as Caleb starts to follow us. He locks the door, deposits me onto the cot, and stares at the door, like it's going to bust open and Caleb is going to try to steal me or something. We hear a knock on the door. I don't know why Tobias is so protective of me now, and why he hates Caleb so much, but I realize it's a stupid thing to wonder about, because it's obvious. He thought I died. He doesn't want that to happen. And I died for _Caleb, _who helped me almost die in Erudite. Why I died for him I'm not sure. Why I suddenly cared for him in that moment I don't know. Because he's my brother? I remember telling Caleb to tell Tobias I didn't want to leave him. I basically chose Caleb over Tobias, but that must not be it, because that sounds unreal.

He knocks again. Tobias turns away from the door, picks me up and makes me sit on top of the toilet in the bathroom. He just nods at me, and I nod back, and he closes the bathroom door and opens the main door for Caleb.

"_Where is she?_" Caleb says instantly.

"Who?" Tobias says.

"_My sister._"

I freeze at the words. I am his sister. He said so. And he is my brother. I wish it wasn't true, that maybe a stranger helped to torture me, not my brother, and I was not this traitor's sister, and I wish that I didn't have a permanent place in my heart for this creature.

"What makes you think she's here? Can't you just understand that she's gone? She died for _you_. Just accept it. Listen, I really don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you again."

"She was . . . you were holding her. I saw it."

"Stop. I can't look at you." I hear the door close, and the bathroom door open, Tobias averting his eyes from me. "That was a little harsh," I say.

"Before I knew you were . . . _alive_, I talked to him. I just . . . I looked for you in him, maybe a piece of you left, but he doesn't look like you. He doesn't even act like you. He's a pathetic, miserable coward and I couldn't understand why you would ever die for _him," _Tobias says.

"I don't know either."

"I'm just going to bring you something to eat. Where do you want to sit?"

"Bench, maybe? There's nowhere else to sit," I point out to him. He carries me to the bench and squeezes my hand. Then he's gone.

An uneasy silence seals the room, until I hear a heavy knock. Tobias can't be here already. He wouldn't knock either, knowing I can't walk across the room to open the door for him.

"Here for the new bed," the man says. The voice is oddly familiar.

"Come in," I say, and the door opens.

_Marcus._


	9. 9: TRIS

**Prepare yourself for a long chapter!**

* * *

TRIS

I freeze on the bench as he walks in with all of his tools. How is he here? I hope he does not recognize me, because of my pale skin, shrunken body, and nonexistent muscles. I hope he walks past me and assembles the bed and leaves. I don't care why he is here or how. But it was no mistake. He glanced at me, with the piercing eyes Tobias was so afraid of, and gave me a scary smile. It was no mistake he came to this room. He was looking for Tobias.

"Hello," he says plainly, and folds up the cot. He takes the tools out of his box, and I imagine him pulling a belt out and . . . I stop myself.

"Hi," I say shakily, struggling to keep my voice flat. There is still some hope that he doesn't know me, he doesn't recognize me, that maybe he just looks at _everyone _in a mean way. He was Marcus, after all. He steals another look at me and I know he knows. I want to get up and sprint through to door, all the way to the dining hall and find Tobias. But I can't.

What if he hurts me? I can't move anywhere. If he hurts me, there will be no end to whatever hell he creates for me until Tobias comes, and there could be a long line for breakfast. I nervously peek at the door, which is luckily wide open. Maybe, just maybe, I can take a run when his back is turned.

"I was informed that Tobias was staying here. I was also notified that he was mourning the loss of a certain girl. Short, small, blonde. Named _Tris_." I stared at him, though he was working on constructing the bed. "Understand that I really don't care if you're alive. But where is he?" he says. I can't run from him. He would catch up with me. I'm so frustrated that I can't do anything, that I'm useless and I want to end his existence.

"You really must have some courage to come here all the way from Abnegation, and try to talk to a man who hates you so much that he's afraid of becoming you." I strike a nerve, because Marcus's face freezes for a second before his arms return to hammering something.

"If you're not going to tell me where he is, I might as well answer your questions. I knew about it. I knew about the Bureau, the genetics, everything, since the beginning." I'm not too surprised. He was the leader of Abnegation, and not much can surprise me now.

"I didn't know about this memory serum scheme until later. The Bureau didn't contact me ever again after I first visited it, so I had to consult a friend. Well, brother to you, right?" Marcus turned to look at me, smiling. Caleb? Again? How many times does he have to betray us to understand that we hate him already? "Don't blame him. I had a gun. I was going to shoot him if he didn't tell me what was going on with the part of the Allegiant he was involved in. I had learned a bit about weaponry after raiding that storehouse with Johanna. He confessed where you were, all the plans, everything. I took a truck down here. The Bureau people had been erased of memory so they didn't consider kicking me out, so I stayed. I inoculated myself as well, if you were wondering. So don't try anything foolish."

I still feel uneasy. Marcus wouldn't come here just because we were here, just because he was curious to know what was going on with our part of the Allegiant, though we've forgotten about it. "Allegiant" holds no meaning here, or at least anymore. It's a forgotten chapter of our lives. All there is is here and now, or at least that's what I want it to be. Just looking at Marcus makes the bile rise in my throat. He reminds me of the past life, a lie that I once lived in. It felt dangerous to have two worlds so close together. That's what Chicago was; a whole different world, apart, fake, a lie, an _experiment._

"Tell me why you're really here," I say tightly.

"Why, am I disturbing your peaceful life here with my son?"

"Don't you _dare _call him your son. You have no right for him to be your son now, after all you've done."

Marcus looks uncomfortable. The bed frame is done and he lifts the mattress onto it, and picks up the hammer.

He starts to walk toward me, slowly at first, and I am completely terrified. This was it. I got to survive death by a hair, and I got to do something right for once, and I got to save Chicago and I now get to live with Tobias, and Marcus is coming toward me with a hammer. I guess it was too good to be true. He stops right in front of me. I stare him down in his eyes, hoping if I am intense enough, something will break inside of him and he'll change his mind. But all I see is a monster raging inside of him, and he really is a monster. There's no way this creature can be a human.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do," he whispers in my face, and I don't even see it coming. I am so focused on the visible loathing swirling around in his dark blue eyes, identical to Tobias's. I become lost in my own thoughts, thinking about how Tobias hates being so similar to him. I get a hard punch in the stomach, and it knocks the wind out of me. It might have not caused as much pain if I had braced myself, and if I wasn't so weak. I feel tears spring to my eyes and I will them not to fall. "He's . . . in the . . . dining hall, okay? Please. _Leave_." I say, shaking. Thankfully he turns away, standing up, and walks toward the toolbox.

"Next time, it's the hammer."

What a wicked _animal_.

I realize he doesn't hurt me because he wants to, but he wants to hurt Tobias instead. But why is he so set on hurting him? Marcus held Caleb at gunpoint, came all the way here, and found the Bureau. I didn't want to ask him, but I needed to know, or Tobias could be put in great danger. "Just . . . tell me why you're here," I say, and regret it when Marcus's head turns with a jerk. I cover my face with my hands, but he punches the side of my face and hits my knuckles. They split easily, and I idiotically examine the damage, forgetting all common sense of how to fight. He punches me again with my hands away from my face and his fist connects with my jaw. It aches, then feels like it's crumbling, and I cover it with my hands. Fighting back is out of the question; it will do nothing but make him angrier.

"He needs to be taken back to the experiment," I hear him say in a low voice, and he takes his toolbox, drops something on the floor, and flees, probably so Tobias doesn't come and beat him to his death. I stare at the floor, wanting to scream. Even if I decided to, my aching jaw would probably object. I can't take being confined to bed, or not having enough strength to fight back. I just want to get better already, I want the two weeks to pass so I can walk again, and train to regain strength. My thoughts are to return back to Chicago with Tobias, live in his Dauntless apartment. But I know that might not be able to happen, because Marcus needs him to return to Chicago. I don't know why, but it can't possibly be for any good reason. I bend over, ignoring the ache in my gut where Marcus punched me, and I see Tobias's old Dauntless jacket on the floor.

I remember him wearing it all the time, since he helped me off of the net when I first entered Dauntless. We had no complicated problems. Our world was right, it's what we thought it was. It was genuine. We never thought to _ever _question if everything was just a setup. Amar was dead, and my parents were alive. The only problems were hiding my Divergence and staying in Dauntless. It meant the world to me then; I could care less now. I couldn't imagine that that city-_my world_-was fake. I couldn't imagine that all of my friends would be turned into mindless killing machines, or I would be willing to sacrifice my life to Jeanine. _You die, I die too_. Tobias had followed me there. He knew he was going to die. I knew I was going to die. Still, that didn't even seem important. My problems just become greater, and I can not be left alone.

Heavy footsteps in the hallway. Tobias, finally. The footsteps quicken, probably because he sees the door left wide open. "Tris?" I attempt to casually hold my jaw and smile at him, though it hurts. He walks to me slowly, and covers the hand that I'm holding near my face. With a concerned expression he pulls my hand away, and I try to stare at the floor, or at anything but Tobias's reaction.

"I don't know what to say," he says, and I finally look at him, and his face is reddening and he's clearly angered.

"Calm down," I say quietly. _Or you're going to turn into him_. I erase the thought, Tobias would never become a monster like Marcus. I'll stop him before he ever does, _if _he does.

"I can't calm down." His jaw is set tight, breathing quite heavily, and he appears intimidating. "Who? Who came in here? What did they do?" My eyes find his jacket on the floor once again, and I don't want to tell him. He's going to kill Marcus, or worse. "You said we have to trust each other," he reminds me.

"Marcus," I whisper. I see something inside of him break. He's going to go mad, go crazy, he's going to find him and strangle him on the spot and I don't lie that I am afraid of him in that moment, and it's an unpleasant feeling to feel afraid of the person you hold closest to you. He just stands there. I think he's trying to stop it from being true. It wasn't that bad. Marcus came and hit me a couple times. He revealed his plans, he gave us a bed. But this was Marcus we were talking about, and to Tobias it was a big deal.

"He wanted you to come back to Chicago. He didn't tell me why."

"That doesn't matter," Tobias says, and he picks up my hands. He sees the split knuckles. "Tell me. Don't lie. What did he do to you?"

I don't understand. His life's enemy appears where he shouldn't be, wants him to return to a broken society, and he worries about my injuries.

"He hit me in the face. And stomach. That's it. I'm fine." Tobias brings a bowl of water and starts to wash my knuckles. My stomach and jaw are turning purple nicely.

"Tobias, I hate this. Can we just live? Without any problems? I can't even walk to get my own breakfast. I can't even wait for my breakfast to come to me safely."

"I don't know," he answers. "I guess the answer is _time_," he says after a moment. "You have to wait. You'll get better. Don't worry. I'm not going to let anything happen to you." I can tell that he doesn't believe himself. He sets the bowl of water on a nearby table and turns so his back faces me. "No lying, right?" he says, still not facing me. "No lying," I reply quietly, preparing myself for whatever comes next.

"I'm afraid of becoming him. I'm afraid that I'm going to turn into him and hurt people ruthlessly. And partly, I already am him, because I actually sort of _like _hurting people, and it scares me a lot. I like the feeling of fighting and hurting, and that's the part of me I'm scared of. I'm afraid of hurting you. He came all the way here and hurt you, and now I'm even more scared that I'm going to do the same thing."

"He barely hurt me," I lied.

"Tris, he still did. And I'm afraid that I can't protect you. I used to think that you were all mine, and I always wanted you. I still do, but the question is if we're good for each other or not." Tobias barely looks over his shoulder. I am shocked. I am still his, and he is mine. I choose him, and he chooses me. I thought that it was that way all long. I remember Tobias's eyes a moment before, and I remember the fear and loathing burning all around him, and how I was afraid. But I can't tell him that. Yet.

"Are you saying . . ." I can't finish the thought. Is he trying to leave me? "Tobias, you're not going to become him. You're not him. You don't have to be afraid. Tobias, you're all I want. Don't even ask if you're not good for me anymore, because you always are. I would never fear you. Listen, I literally came back from the dead for you," I say jokingly, but I partly mean it. Tobias finally turns around and crushes me in his arms, and I like him so much in that moment, the smell and feel and reassurance pouring out of his presence. "We need to be stronger than this," he says quietly. He pulls away and I feel a bit cold, and I guess I shiver because he picks up his Dauntless jacket off of the floor and wraps me in it like a blanket. "I thought about it last night. That we're all damaged, but we can be fixed. We mend each other. And that's what you do to me. You mend me and break me all at once, but it's so worth it because I love you," Tobias confesses.

"I love you," I repeat quietly, and I think I mean it, because I believe in it.

* * *

**I have written the next chapter, but I will post it as soon as I get 2 more reviews for this chapter, Chapter Nine. So review, because reviewing readers are my favorite readers :)**


	10. 10: TRIS

TRIS

Days pass, and I start to become stronger. I tell Tobias to wear the jacket, because it reminds me of good times, and he obeys. He looks handsome in it, and he looks stronger and fearless in it, like Four. Christina visits a few times and keeps my being a secret. Tobias and I sleep together now on the bed. It was awkward at first, because I was shy and he was afraid, but sleeping with him is now a thing I look forward to. He still cries in his sleep, making ugly noises, but he is unbreakable during the day. I can walk more. In seven days, I can put myself into the world again.


	11. 11: TOBIAS

TOBIAS

I wake up, blinking a few times, adjusting to the blinding brightness of the day. It's nice to have a bed and have Tris in my arms, where nobody can hurt her. I sleep in a shirt with her, though I would usually sleep without one. She sleeps fully clothed as well, in a hospital uniform and thin bottoms. Her hands and face are pressed against my chest. My hands rest on her waist, slipping under the hem of her shirt. The moment is natural, unforced, and perfect. Her long eyelashes flutter as she wakes with a smile, and her hands move up to the sides of my jaw. "I was already awake . . . I was watching you sleep," she says. "That's a little odd, Tris," I say, but I press a kiss to her lips anyways. I can't get enough of saying her name. For weeks, I could only think of Tris as "_her_."I could not bear to hear anyone say her name, like it was sacred and couldn't be spoken of, or even thought about. She pulls away from the kiss and looks at me with a smile. Sometimes we spend a couple of hours in bed, not getting up, just feeling peaceful and undisturbed and perfect. She makes me feel that way, and I love that I can make her feel like that too.

"We should go back to Chicago some day," I say. Her smile dissolves and her fingers run through the hair on the back of my head. I know what it means. She always does it when she's worried, or afraid, or just telling me to calm down. It always works. "I don't know. I wanted to too, but Marcus _wants_ you to go. Something might happen." She's right. It's dangerous.

"We can still visit maybe," I suggest and end the topic. Tris's eyes widen suddenly, and she jerks up. "Christina. I'm supposed to go to her. I forgot. She wanted to have breakfast." I lean back on my elbows. I want her to stay, but I let her go. She hasn't been outside our bedroom for a week. She gets out of the bed, but stops and turns a little red in the face. "Tobias? I don't have clothes." She's been wearing the same hospital gown for forever now. "Should I get Christina to send some clothes? Or I could ask a Bureau worker for some sort of uniform?" I suggested.

"Can I see if . . . you have anything? Christina's clothes aren't really my . . . _style_," Tris says. "You can probably find something in the top drawer," I tell her, but I realize my mistake when her fingertips touch the handle. "_Wait_," I say hastily, getting out of the bed. "I meant the bottom one." I know I blew it because of my reaction, but I hope she doesn't notice. The statue from my childhood, blue and cascading, is buried somewhere in that top drawer. The one that Evelyn gave me, the one belonging I ever had to myself, the only thing I could hold onto for those long hours in the closet. I don't know why, but I don't feel like telling her about something so personal. At least, not yet. I don't want to relive all of the pain by telling it over in words, as if the scars were not deep enough already.

"What?" Tris says, clutching the handle now. I approach her slowly, so she doesn't open it, and I rest my hands on her hips, trying to change her mind. Before I can say anything, she pulls away from my embrace, to the opposite side of the room. "What is in that drawer?" she demands. I don't say anything. "Tobias, tell me. You said no lying. I'm going to open it if you don't tell me."

"Stop," I say calmly, trying to keep it down, imagining her fingers running down the back of my head. I don't know if I'm telling her to stop or myself.

"_No_," Tris shouts back. Why is she so mad? Why is she suddenly so curious? What's _wrong _with her?

"Why are you so difficult sometimes? It's nothing, alright? Why can't I keep anything for myself? You have to know everything, Tris, all the time, and I'm frustrated at it!" I yell, and I feel my heart racing and my muscles working up, the blood pumping faster, and my head feels like it's about to explode. I haven't ever been mad at her since she got out of the hallucination.

Tris gives me a hard stare from across the room, her jaw clenched tight. It's a mixture of anger and something else I don't recognize. I was always good at reading her, but now I don't know. Abruptly, she turns and stomps out of my bedroom, and slams the door. I stare at the panel of wood, and my heart is still racing and my muscles are worked up, the blood pumping fast, and my head has dulled to an odd pulsing feeling. It's the sensation of complete worry.

Why was I so difficult sometimes?


End file.
